


Broken Pride

by JeanJacquesFrancois



Series: Broken Mirrors and Companion Pieces [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 17:54:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3390803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanJacquesFrancois/pseuds/JeanJacquesFrancois
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place within the time frame of Chapter 77 of Broken Mirrors and fills in the gaps. </p><p>I'm afraid it probably won't make any sense at all as a stand alone piece, so I'd really recommend you go and read that one first! :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Pride

**Author's Note:**

> I know a lot of you were specifically after a Loras viewpoint here, but I'm afraid I've stood by my decision not to delve into his POV. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy all the same! (And come on, you all knew I was never going to let you guys not know what went on...!)

It was surprisingly mild out and Satin slipped his coat off his shoulders as he made his way up the drive to the tall white townhouse. He felt strangely nostalgic as he stood on the front step and he paused for a moment, breathing in the familiar sights. The dead potted plant still stood next to the door- Satin reckoned it had been a geranium once, a long long time ago- and Satin knew that if he looked underneath it, there would be a set of keys on a very rusty key ring. The paint was still peeling off the front door slightly, and the number _14_ stood out in tarnished gold. Satin smiled to himself at the sight. So many times he had stood here, waiting for Renly to come down from the top flat and let him in, or else fishing around in the dark under a muddy flower pot for a key he knew was there.

He was tempted to use that key now and yet he supposed it wasn’t his place. Loudly, he knocked.

It took a while before he heard footsteps on the stairs, and he was a little taken aback to hear the sound of a dog barking from inside. He’d never known Renly to like animals, and he was beginning to wonder whether he’d got the wrong house- a different house with a dead potted plant outside- when the door swung open.

It wasn’t Renly, and Satin wasn’t sure which of them was more taken aback. Loras had the dog that he’d heard tucked under his arm, a gorgeous toffee-coloured bundle of fur that Satin thought he recognised as a cocker spaniel.

“Hi Loras,” Satin said as politely as he could. “Is Renly in?”

Loras shook his head a little sullenly, his curls bouncing. It all reminded Satin a little bit of Jon, and yet he had to admit that the man standing in front of him put Jon to shame. He really was gorgeous, effortlessly elegant too, and Satin suddenly regretted having thrown on a plain blue jumper that morning. He’d clearly been drinking though; the smell of whiskey was strong even from a good foot away.

“Well do you think he’d mind if I popped upstairs and got some stuff?” he asked. “He said I left some of my things here.”

Loras just shrugged. “Sure,” he said. Turning back around and leaving the door open for Satin to follow, he headed back up the stairs, the dog still tucked under his arm until he glanced back and saw that Satin had shut the front door. He let it loose then and Satin paused on the stairs to fuss over it.

“I think Ren said he put all your stuff in his room,” Loras told him as they reached the top, quickly disappearing into what Satin assumed was his own bedroom.

Satin resisted the urge to sigh. He hadn’t missed the way that Loras had shortened Renly’s name. It was as if he were trying to point out how close he and Renly were. Satin felt a little sorry for him. He’d only just stepped in the door and already Loras was trying to assert his dominance. It was the mark of someone who felt threatened and Satin thought that a little sad.

Renly’s room was an absolute tip, as it had often been when they were dating, but Satin found his clothes easily. Surprisingly, they’d been folded in the wardrobe rather than screwed up in a ball under the bed like he’d have expected from Renly, and Satin tried not to crease them as he put them in his bag. He was of two minds as to what to do then. On one hand, he wanted to get out of Loras’ hair as quickly as possible, but on the other, it seemed silly to drop by and leave without seeing Renly at all.

Leaning ever so slightly towards the second option, Satin knocked rather tentatively on Loras’ bedroom door.

“Mmm,” came a hum from inside.

Satin pushed the door open slightly. Loras was sat on the floor, surrounded by reams and reams of fabric that had been laid out neatly in triangles, or at least _would have_ been laid out neatly in triangles had the dog not been wandering amongst them.

“Yes?” Loras said, looking up at him through slightly narrowed eyes. It was only then that Satin noticed the bucket of ice behind him. Loras was clearly doing the drinking properly, and Satin had to smile to himself. Only Renly’s house would be equipped for such things.

“Renly,” Satin said, “do you think he’ll be back soon?”

Loras looked at the clock on the wall and shrugged. “Probably,” he said. “I’ve been back for a few hours now and he’s not usually out too late.” He turned back to the pieces of fabric on the floor and resumed pinning two of them together.

“Mind if I wait downstairs or something?”

Loras shrugged, several pins in his mouth now. He had to drop them into his hand to talk. “You can do what you like,” he said. “This isn’t my house.”

Satin couldn’t decide whether he was intending to be rude but he decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Trying to smile, he leant over what Loras was doing, thinking he’d show a little polite interest before retreating back into the relative safety that downstairs offered him. “What you making?” he asked.

“A skirt,” Loras said bluntly. “For my sister. It’s her birthday soon and she likes this pattern.”

Satin frowned. He didn’t know anything about sewing; he looked at the pale blue fabric on the floor and wondered if he was being stupid. “Isn’t that material plain?” he asked.

Loras snorted and he held up a very large unfolded piece of paper, which were presumably the instructions that he was following. “I meant that she likes this style,” he said scathingly. “It’s a circle skirt. And anyway, this blue fabric here is only the lining.”

Satin nodded along; he got the feeling that Loras had rather enjoyed correcting him. “So what fabric are you using for the real skirt?” he asked.

Loras held up a blue and yellow floral pattern. It was very pretty, Satin thought. He’d never seen pictures of Loras’ sister, but he imagined that if she looked anything like her brother, she’d look most fetching in it. “It’s lovely,” he said. “You know, I’ve always wanted to be able to sew.”

Loras sniffed loudly. “Well you can stay and watch if you like,” he said. He took a long drink of whiskey from a tumbler he had next to him.

Satin shrugged, patting the dog as it passed. Loras hadn’t exactly sounded _friendly_ , but his tone hadn’t been hostile either. He figured that it would be more interesting to watch Loras than sit downstairs by himself and so he sat down quietly on the floor. “So are you going to do it all by hand?” he asked, seeing Loras pick up a needle and thread.

Loras shook his head. “No,” he said a little irritably, having to take pins out of his mouth yet again. “But I don’t have a sewing machine here. So I’m just doing all the bits that need to be done by hand first. These big stitches are called tacks. You take them out later.”

Satin nodded. He thought he better be quiet for a while now and he watched patiently. It was really quite interesting, he thought. Loras was putting _tacks_ along the sides of two of the blue triangles, joining them together. Sometimes he’d put pins in too, and occasionally he’d take a piece of chalk and make what appeared to be random marks. What was most impressive, however, was how well he threaded a needle. Satin only had vague memories of his textiles lessons back in school- lessons which had certainly been few and far between- but he remembered that he’d seemed to spend the entire hour trying to get the thread in the god damn needle. Loras meanwhile seemed to do it with ease, regardless of the fact that he was getting through what was neat whiskey rather quickly.

“Bit of a fiddly task to be on the whiskey isn’t it?” Satin laughed when Loras took another drink.

Loras scowled and shrugged. “I’ve had a bad day,” he said shortly.

“Ah,” Satin agreed. “I suppose we all have those days.” He wondered what Renly had done now.

Loras just grunted though and didn’t elaborate. Reaching over to a nearby bookcase, he picked up another glass off one of the shelves. He then scooped ice from the bucket into it before pouring another large glass of whiskey. “Here,” he said.

Satin took it, a little taken aback at the gesture. If he was completely honest, he wasn’t actually too fond of whiskey. He was used to drinking whatever was put in front of him though and so he sipped it out of politeness. The taste reminded him of kissing Renly on nights out and that at least was a rather fond memory.

Loras had finished his stitches and his second glass of whiskey by the time he spoke again. “I had something I wanted to say to you actually,” he mumbled, picking up a pair of scissors that were lying on the floor and unrolling the floral fabric that he’d shown Satin earlier.

That was curious indeed and Satin smiled. “What?”

Loras shrugged, cutting surprisingly straight along lines that he’d already marked out in chalk. “I guess I wanted to apologise,” he said, “for being such an arse to you.”

Satin raised an eyebrow. “Really?” He hadn’t been expecting that. He wouldn’t have thought Loras Tyrell even capable of apologies.

Loras shrugged again. “Well Renly said I had to be nicer to you,” he muttered. He took another long swig of his drink, draining it until there was nothing left but ice.

Satin laughed. “Well a forced apology means nothing,” he pointed out. “And it’s all right. Don’t feel _obliged_ to apologise just because Renly thinks you ought to. I don’t particularly care if you hate me or not.”

Loras raised his head from his sewing. “Oh I never _hated_ you,” he said stiffly. “I don’t know enough about you to _hate_ you.”

“You just didn’t like the idea of me?” Satin offered gently. He could understand that. He found being around Ygritte hard enough; and he didn’t think he was half as crazy about Jon as Loras clearly was about Renly. He rather hoped that he never would be. It was a level of obsession that surely couldn’t be healthy.

Loras just sniffed. “I suppose not,” he agreed.

Satin gave him a small smile. “Well it’s hard when exs get new partners.”

Loras shrugged. “Yeah,” he sighed. “But I was still wrong to be so horrible to you. It was stupid and pointless.” He poured himself another drink. “I shouldn’t have bothered.”

Satin had to laugh at his tone. “Why not?” he asked. “Must have at least been satisfying?”

Loras stared moodily into the depths of his drink. “Well it just made Renly pissed off at me,” he said. He sighed heavily. “And I guess… well I guess I assumed that once you were out of the way, me and Renly would go back out again. But you never actually had anything to do with it really.”

 _He still didn’t want me_ is what he clearly meant to say, and Satin didn’t know how to respond to that. “Yeah well he probably thinks that that’s best for both of you maybe,” Satin said a little lamely. “You know, that it’ll get both of you hurt.”

Loras just snorted. “That’s not the reason he doesn’t want me,” he said vehemently. “And you damn well know it.”

Satin frowned. “Do I?”

Loras shrugged, cutting the fabric a little less perfectly this time. “I’m well aware that Renly’s incapable of keeping his mouth shut,” he mumbled.

Satin paused. He didn’t know what to say to that either. “You’re talking about that list,” he murmured softly. “Aren’t you?”

“I told you you’d know,” he almost spat.

Satin cocked his head. That whole thing with the list that Jaime had apparently written was awful, he thought. It had been shortly after that escapade that Renly had come crying to him in Edinburgh, and Satin couldn’t remember feeling particularly sorry for him. He glanced over at Loras now and was surprised to see his expression. His misery was poorly veiled.

“So you think that Renly doesn’t want to go back out with you because of some of the stuff on that list?” Satin breathed. He didn’t have to say quite what he was referring to; he imagined that Loras would catch his drift well enough.

Indeed, Loras sniffed. “I don’t think that,” he muttered. “I _know_ that.”

Satin sighed heavily. He didn’t think that was true actually. Renly was very fond of sex, he was very fond of partners who knew what they were doing in sex, but he doubted that that was what was stopping him dating Loras. “ _How_ do you know that?” he asked,

Loras looked at him as if he had two heads. “How do I know that?” he repeated bitterly. “Well think about it like this. Renly’s dated two people since me, and neither of them have been ideal. He’s had, well, _you_ who’s a hook- _escort_ , and this Jon, who’s old and boring, and who he doesn’t even find that attractive.” He took another large gulp of whiskey. “And what do you guys have in common? You’re good at _stuff_. Renly will settle for all kinds of shit if he thinks the sex is good enough.”

Satin bit his lip, finding his logic irritably sound. He wasn’t going to argue with Loras’ assessment that he’d been a less than ideal boyfriend for Renly, for it was true: his job didn’t exactly lend itself to relationships. He still didn’t agree with the conclusion he’d drawn though, and yet he was unsure how to argue against it. He couldn’t deny that his argument made sense; Renly definitely valued the quality of his sex life more than a little.

“Well I don’t think that’s true,” he said softly. He had slightly more faith in Renly than that.

“Well it is,” Loras hissed darkly, stabbing a needle into the floral fabric now. “He’ll put up with this Jon because the sex is good. I know, I get to _hear_ it. With me, he’s got nothing to gain by going out with me. As things are now, he gets to have me around and spend time with me, but then go and get his kicks with people who are actually good at it. It’s the best of both worlds for him. I’m not stupid, you know.”

Satin cocked his head. “I never thought you were stupid,” he said quietly. He’d often thought many things about Loras Tyrell, many of them negative. But whilst he was brash and rude and ill-tempered, he’d never thought him dim.

Loras said nothing.

“And I doubt Renly thinks about it like that,” Satin insisted. “He’s probably not aware that it looks like he’s having his cake and eating it too.”

Loras just wrinkled his nose. “I never said he was,” he muttered. “But it’s clear he’d toss out all his worries about us being _dangerous_ for each other if I was more like you.” He looked at him then and his eyes were dark and narrowed. “You could have been a heroin junkie and he wouldn’t have cared. And that’s because you’re better at stuff than I am.”

Satin closed his eyes briefly. “Surely Renly’s never said that to you?” he placated.

Loras shrugged. “No,” he said shortly. “He just told the world instead. And wrote it on a piece of paper for me to find.”

Satin sighed. It was quite baffling, he thought, how someone so gorgeous could base their entire sexual self-esteem on what one person thought of them. But Renly was clearly the star around which Loras orbited and Satin didn’t think anyone had the power to change that. “You know,” he said softly, “there are things more important than sex.”

Loras rolled his eyes down at his fabric. “Have you _met_ Renly?” he retorted bitterly. He took another swig of whiskey and turned his face away. Satin wondered if he was crying.

“But really,” Satin pressed again. “Sex isn’t everything at all. Renly _adores_ you. He never loved me.”

“Yeah he adores me but won’t date me,” Loras growled, his grip tightening on his glass dangerously. “What does that say about what kind of a lover he thinks I am?”

Satin bit his lip again. “Maybe you should put the whiskey down now,” he suggested lightly. “You’re upsetting yourself.”

Loras shrugged. “ _So?”_

Satin sighed. “Well in the morning, you’ll probably regret having been like this in front of me.”

Loras just scowled at him. “What difference does it make,” he snapped. “Any dignity I have in front of any of Renly’s friends is an illusion. They all know what he’s said about me. Sure, I can hold my head high, pretend I don’t care, but I’ll always _know_ and they will too.” He pointed a slightly trembling finger at Satin. “ _You_ , you’re the ex who he raved about, the one who gives head like a god. And well me, I’m the opposite apparently.”

Satin sighed. He wondered whether the whiskey had gone to Loras’ head; he was certainly being more candid than he’d have expected. He couldn’t help but feel desperately sorry for him. He wondered whether Renly knew quite what a mess he’d made of the boy’s self-esteem. Supermodel or not, he was evidently a paranoid wreck. His failings in certain areas had become an obsession for him, flaws which he fixated on.

“I’m sure you can’t be _that_ bad,” he told him firmly.

Loras scowled. “I have no idea.”

Satin resisted the urge to sigh. “Well did he seem to like it?” he asked.

“Well I don’t fucking know do I?” He’d put down the needle and thread now, and he was glaring at Satin as if it was _him_ who’d told Loras such discouraging things.

Satin did sigh this time, crossing his arms across his chest. “Well what did you do? Describe it to me.” Unless Loras told him that he’d used to bite him, he refused to believe that anything he did had been _bad._

Loras’ scowl merely deepened. “I- I…” He screwed his face up. “What do you expect me to say?” he snapped. “How does one bloody _describe_ it?”

Satin shrugged. He was inclined to agree; it was hard to put such things into words. Even he felt silly sometimes when clients asked him to describe what he was going to do to them and he had a lot of practice. “Show me then.”

Loras almost spat out his whiskey. “ _What?”_

Satin almost laughed. “Well you’re clearly worried about it,” he told him. “And I’d have no reason to lie to you. It’s not exactly as if we’re friends and I would care about hurting your feelings is it?” He toyed idly with one of the curls around his face. “So if you want to,” he said gently, “you can show me, and I’ll _tell_ you if it’s bad.”

“You’re fucking kidding.”

Satin did laugh this time. He lounged back on his elbows and had to blow his curls out of his face. “The ball is in your court,” he told him.

Loras just wrinkled his nose. The idea was apparently unpalatable to him and he flashed daggers at Satin as if he’d really rather punch him in the face instead. Satin could see the cogs slowly turning behind his eyes though, and after a few moments it seemed that his paranoia won out. Apparently he actually was that desperate.

“Fine,” he hissed. “But if you ever tell _anyone_ about this, I will castrate you in your sleep.”

Satin almost rolled his eyes. “I’ll consider myself warned,” he agreed.

Silently, he unbuckled his belt. The click of it sounded painfully loud in the silence between them and Satin tried to keep his composure. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever been with someone who’d been as clearly uncomfortable as Loras Tyrell was right now, and that was really saying something. He’d been with terrified virgins and women who’d been convinced that they’d never get a date, but not one of them had looked as painfully awkward as Loras did now. Satin wondered what approach he ought to take with him. Usually, he’d try to put anyone who was clearly nervous a little more at ease. He’d insist on the foreplay, on soft kisses, on taking it reassuringly slow. He had a feeling though that Loras Tyrell wouldn’t appreciate a false show of affection between them, that he’d find it patronising and awkward.

Indeed, Loras made no move to come any closer; he clearly wasn’t interested in any fake display of passion. “Where should I be?” he muttered.

Satin smiled up at him. “Well that’s up to you,” he told him gently. “Pretend I’m Renly. Where would you have put me?”

Loras scowled. “Well he’d have been lying down,” he said. “We’d have been in bed.”

“Improvise then,” Satin prompted. He paused then to see the pained expression that that brought to Loras’ face. He evidently didn’t want the responsibility of choosing how he’d do it and so Satin got to his feet and sat himself down on Loras’ bed.

Warily, Loras came to sit on the end of the bed. The dog jumped up with him when he did sat down and Loras had to firmly put her back down on the floor several times before she got the message. He then crossed his legs, planting himself firmly at the very end of the bed as he watched Satin undo his jeans.

“Well I think you’ll have to come a little closer than that,” Satin laughed. He didn’t look to see if he took any notice and fished instead in his jeans pocket, digging around until he found what he was looking for. “I have cherry, strawberry and tropical,” he told him, holding them up. He was unsurprised to see that Loras hadn’t moved.

Loras cocked his head. “You want to use a condom for oral?” he asked. His tone was a little less bitter now, and Satin wondered whether he was feeling a little more comfortable.

Satin shrugged. “You should do really,” he said.

Loras looked completely baffled though and so Satin shoved them back in his pocket. “Your prerogative,” he said, pulling his shirt off over his head. He wasn’t surprised. Very few people, he knew, used condoms for oral sex, and Renly certainly would never have done.

It took Loras a few minutes before he made any attempt to move from the end of the bed, and when he did, he downed his remaining whiskey first. Satin wondered fleetingly whether he ought to feel offended that Loras evidently needed his Dutch courage but he dismissed the thought quickly. Indeed, when Loras finally came a little closer, Satin saw that there was little malice in his eyes, only wariness and enough awkwardness to fill an Olympic swimming pool.

Satin lay back against the pillows when he judged Loras to be close enough, lifting his hips so that he could get his jeans off. He left his boxers on though, thinking he’d let Loras deal with those when he was ready. Firmly, he reached out for Loras’ hand. He was surprised when Loras let him take it.

“Here,” he murmured, placing his hand on the waistband on his boxers. “It’s fine. You’re going to have to touch.”

Loras chewed his lip above him and it was very tentatively that he placed his hands on Satin’s hips. His hands were warm though and his touch surprisingly gentle, and Satin closed his eyes. He imagined that Loras would feel a little less nervous if he wasn’t being watched.

It was very slowly that Loras pulled his boxers down and it was only then that it occurred properly to Satin that one of the most famous models in the world was about to give him head. It was a strange and surreal thought, Satin found. He mainly thought of Loras in relation to Renly and he often managed to forget who and what Loras really was.

He exhaled loudly when Loras actually touched him, a soft and tentative brush of fingertips that wouldn’t have felt out of place coming from a shy schoolgirl. He’d really have liked to open his eyes then, to enjoy the view, but he forced himself to keep them closed- he’d wait until Loras got going before he let himself watch. Thankfully, merely picturing the scene above him was enough to get him hard, and he was pleased to find that Loras’ touch became a little more deliberate when he had something firm to wrap his hand around.

The first press of lips was equally as tentative, and Satin arched his hips slightly to try and encourage him. He groaned a little when Loras took the hint, drawing the tip of his cock into his mouth. Like most mouths it was warm and soft and wet and Satin shuddered.

“Keep your hand there if you like,” he murmured, wrapping his own hand briefly around Loras’ and moving it for him. “Makes it a lot easier. And try and get everything as wet as possible. That helps too.”

Loras tightened his hand around his cock, and Satin’s breath hitched. The boy was no Casanova but he knew how to follow instructions. Soon his hand was sliding easily with the wetness from his mouth.

Satin dared to open his eyes then and he had to pant a little at the sight. Renly had been hot as fuck, but Loras would definitely give him a run for his money. His eyes were closed, his dusky eyelashes brushing his cheek every now and again; his curls fell over his face with every jerk of his head, and his lips were slick and shiny. He was gorgeous and Satin wondered how it was that Renly wasn’t eternally grateful for the fact that such a lovely creature had deigned to come anywhere near his cock with that perfect mouth of his.

That said, Renly hadn’t been wrong either when he’d said that he’d been monotonous. Resting his head back on the pillow, Satin reached down to knot a hand in Loras’ hair. He half expected Loras to take offence at that and slap him away, but on the contrary he seemed to draw comfort from it. His mouth relaxed a little; he seemed a little more certain of what he was doing.

Gently, Satin tugged on his curls, pulling him back a little. “If you vary what you do a little, it makes it easier on your jaw,” he murmured. “You can just use your tongue if you like for a while. Swirl it around the head, lick the underside, whatever takes your fancy.” He kept his hand cradling the back of his head and groaned when his instructions were followed, a warm tongue licking its way from the very base of his cock up to the tip of the head.

He tightened his fingers in his silky curls. “And look at me,” he urged.

Loras looked at him and just the sight alone almost made Satin finish. There was a reason why he was the best paid male model in the world. He gazed up at him with eyes that were puddles of liquid gold and Satin wondered how Renly had ever had the strength to tell him that he didn’t want him.

Satin shuddered. “Here,” he murmured, giving Loras’ forehead a gentle push. “I won’t come in your mouth.” Somehow, he didn’t think Loras would appreciate that. He was surprised though when Loras kept his hands wrapped around his cock even after he’d taken his mouth away. His grip was relaxed now, as if he were touching himself instead of someone else, and Satin murmured his appreciation. Brash and rude as he often was, Loras Tyrell was obviously as eager to please as the next person. Satin suspected rather that under that tough outer shell of his he was probably as soft as butter.

Satin groaned when he came, collapsing heavily against the pillows of Loras’ bed. It took him a while to start thinking sensibly again and when he opened his eyes, Loras had returned to sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed. His walls were clearly back up and he was on he was on the whiskey again, his cheeks rosy, flushed with embarrassment and drink.

“So?” he hissed.

Satin grabbed a tissue from the box on Loras’ bedside table before he answered, wiping his stomach clean and pulling his boxers back on. “Yeah it’s perfectly fine,” Satin laughed. “You’re worrying for absolutely no reason.”

Loras made a face that was only half relief. “Well it felt easier with you,” he muttered.

Satin smiled at him. “Probably because Renly’s really a mouthful?” he chuckled. As much as he hated to stoke Renly’s already over-inflated ego, it really had to be admitted.

Loras’ brow furrowed though. “Not particularly because of that.”

“Probably because I actually give you some direction then,” Satin said. Renly, he knew, very much liked to think that he was decent at communicating what he wanted, but that was an absolute lie. Often, Satin suspected that it was simply because he was too _nice_ and he didn’t want to hurt his partner’s feelings.

Loras shrugged. “Guess I wasn’t used to that,” he admitted. “I don’t think anyone’s ever told me what to do before.”

Satin smiled, pushing his now-tangled hair out of his eyes. “You haven’t had many decent partners have you?” he chuckled.

Loras’ face darkened. “Renly’s decent,” he protested.

Satin shrugged. “In some ways,” he agreed. “Technically he’s great but he falls very flat elsewhere.”

“Well _I_ enjoyed everything he did to me,” Loras said vehemently.

Satin had to smile a little sadly at that. Even after everything Renly had done to the poor boy, it still seemed that he was ready to defend him to the death. It was sweet, Satin supposed, despite being very misguided.

“I’m sure you did,” he agreed. “I meant that he’s really bad at telling you what he wants. I think he hates confrontations too much.”

Loras just shrugged, getting up to his feet to get himself another glass of whiskey. It was only then that Satin remembered only one of them had got off. Loras’ erection was visible through his jeans and yet he seemed almost ashamed of it when he caught Satin looking.

“Do you want me to…?” Satin prompted.

Loras scowled. “It’s fine,” he snapped. As soon as the words were out of his mouth though, he seemed to regret his tone and he bit his lip a little awkwardly. “What I meant to say is that I didn’t mean for you to feel obliged.”

Satin almost raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t make head or tail of the boy standing in front of him; his moods seemed to change like the wind. He wondered actually if he was seeing glimpses into how Loras was with Renly, or if this was just what made him so volatile- the fact that he could be docile one moment and vicious the next. He suspected somehow that it was the latter.

“I can if you like though,” Satin said. “Fair’s fair.”

Loras said nothing. He just sat back down on the end of the bed silently. He didn’t complain though when Satin approached, and neither did he bat his hands away when Satin moved to undo his jeans for him. He just closed his eyes, screwing them up tightly. Strangely, he looked almost as nervous about being touched as he had been when it was his turn to do the touching. He was fidgety, agitated.

His hair down there was quite long and judging from the fact Renly had told him that he’d used to take it all off, Satin wondered how long it had been since he’d felt like there was a chance of him having sex. Indeed when Loras opened his eyes, he winced when he looked down. His cheeks flushed pink and Satin felt his heart swell with pity.

“Just forget it,” Loras muttered. He tried to pull his boxers back up.

Satin just laughed. “I don’t mind,” he murmured. “And you know, Renly doesn’t care either.”

Loras just made a sort of strangled noise. He didn’t sound convinced but he let Satin ease his boxers back down all the same.

His hair was just as curly as it was on his head and Satin raked his fingers through it idly. He wanted to take his time, to not rush anything. He wanted him to realise that Renly wasn’t the world’s resident expert on giving head and that other people could offer him the same pleasure. At the same time though, he didn’t want to seem like he was showing off and make him feel inferior. It would be a difficult line to tread.

“Why don’t you get yourself comfortable,” Satin murmured.

Loras glanced at him. “Comfortable?”

Satin moved him for him, pulling him to the very edge of the bed so that he’d be able to kneel easily between his legs.

It was very gently that Satin took him into his mouth. He realised immediately why Loras seemed on edge, why he was agitated. He remembered all too well what Renly had told him about Loras and his last boyfriend, and he had to note that his erection was a rather poor one indeed for someone his age. It was firm enough to stand but just a little floppy.

Indeed, Satin had barely taken the head into his mouth when he felt Loras tremble beneath him. It wasn’t the good kind of trembling either and Satin could feel the embarrassment coming off him in waves as he felt him go soft. As far as he was concerned, it wasn’t particularly a problem, but he didn’t imagine that Loras would feel the same way.

Indeed, it was now that Loras batted him away. “It’s the meds I take,” he snapped. “They make it hard- _difficult_ sometimes to keep-” He swore loudly.

Satin rocked back on his heels. “It’s fine,” he said. He wrapped his hand back around him firmly. He was quite fond of soft penises. They could be malleable and fun, and he wanted Loras to understand that too.

Loras apparently did not understand. “You can let go now,” he hissed.

Satin cocked his head. “Why? Does it not feel good anymore?”

“Well it’s not fucking hard, you idiot.”

Satin resisted the urge to sigh. “That’s not what I asked,” he pointed out. “I asked if it didn’t feel good anymore.”

Loras screwed his face up. “I suppose it still feels _nice_ ,” he almost whimpered. “But let go. There’s no point touching it like that.”

Satin let go and Loras hastily tucked his offending penis back inside his jeans. He was clearly mortified. His cheeks had flushed beetroot and Satin reckoned that if he’d been alone, he’d have cried in frustration.

Satin just sighed, crossing his legs on the floor. “Loras,” he said. “Do you have any hobbies?”

Loras scowled down at him, buttoning his jeans back up with the haste of a tornado. “Yes,” he mumbled. “Why?”

“Like what? Give me an example.”

Loras shrugged. “I guess I used to like playing polo?”

“And do you come when you play polo?”

Loras’ face darkened; he evidently thought Satin was mocking him. “What kind of fucking stupid question is that?”

Satin shrugged. “Just making the point that something can be fun even if it doesn’t involve an ejaculation.” He could have made the point too that a soft penis was perfectly capable of ejaculation, but he thought that would be too much information for Loras to take on board.

Loras just scowled. “Maybe if you’re sixty three and not twenty three,” he mumbled. He got up off the bed and beelined for the whiskey again. Satin soon heard him muttering under his breath again, cursing the drugs he took rather vehemently.

Satin let him rant in peace. Men, he knew, tended to see their erections as evidence of their masculinity, and Loras Tyrell was apparently no different. It saved his pride to blame the drugs. If truth be told though, Satin didn’t reckon it _was_ purely the medication. It surely had a hand in it; that was sure. But he’d been perfectly capable of sustaining an albeit not very firm erection when it was safely in his jeans and when there was no pressure for him to have one. It was the worrying that had got to him, Satin reckoned, _anxiety_.

Watching him and his embarrassment a little sadly, Satin reckoned he’d have to feel sorry for him if he ever did go back out with Renly. Renly, he knew, would find erectile dysfunction a difficult problem to deal with. He’d _try_ to be understanding and he wouldn’t be stupid enough to think that Loras’ lack of a decent erection meant that Loras didn’t find him attractive anymore, but he’d see it as a problem he needed to fix, and it wouldn’t occur to him to pleasure him without insisting upon an erection. He’d have the same instincts that Loras had- that indeed _most_ men had- that a penis that wasn’t erect was a useless one, one that nobody should see.

Satin was still lost in those thoughts when Loras spoke again and he almost jumped; he’d practically forgotten that Loras was still in the room. “What did you say?” he asked.

“I asked if you were going to tell Renly,” Loras muttered. “Not about that just now. About everything.”

Satin paused. He hadn’t considered Renly, but now that he thought about it he thought that he’d probably have to be told. Secrets didn’t ever tend to stay secret long and Satin reckoned it would be better that one of them told Renly calmly instead of blurting it out in an argument.

“I feel he should know,” he said eventually. “Not much. But that _something_ happened.”

Loras nodded wearily, his chest heaving. “Can you leave me to tell him then?” he whispered, staring down at his feet.

“Sure I can,” Satin assured him.

Loras nodded again, closing his eyes.

“Well I’m going to go clean myself up,” Satin murmured. “I’m still a little sticky.” He got to his feet.

“Okay.”

“And then I should probably go home.”

“Okay.”

Satin exited the room rather gladly and he took his time sorting himself out in the bathroom. He felt a little guilty now, like he’d touched one of Renly’s things without his permission, and yet he knew that that thought was ridiculous. Loras Tyrell was his own person and he certainly wasn’t Renly’s. He just wished that Renly’s home hadn’t been the setting.

Loras had shut his bedroom door by the time that Satin had finished up in the bathroom, something which Satin didn’t find surprising in the slightest. He was surprised, however, to see that an envelope had been left on the floor, a big white envelope. He bent down and saw that it had an email address scribbled across it. Picking it up, he gulped to see that it was filled with money. It was more money than Satin could count, and he sighed heavily.

He pushed the door back open wearily. Loras was still dressed but he was curled up in bed now, the dog at the end of his bed. Part of Satin wondered if he was having a quiet wank now that he was by himself and felt that he could take his time with his erection without feeling that anyone was judging him. He supposed he’d never know.

“I can’t take this,” he said, holding up the envelope.

Loras scowled down at his knees. “Why not?” he said bluntly. “It’s what you do isn’t it? You’re a hooker aren’t you?”

Satin just rolled his eyes at his choice of words. “Yes, but-“

“Well you gave me a service and I’ve paid for it.”

Satin sighed heavily. “But I’d have told you very explicitly if I’d been expecting you to pay me. It’s bad practice not to lay out all charges beforehand.”

To his surprise, Loras’ face merely flushed red again. “Just take it and go,” he almost yelped “We both know that we’re not fond of each other and that this was for my benefit. So please, just take it and leave.”

“I really can’t-”

“You can and you will,” he whispered bitterly. “I’d rather you’d done it for money than out of pity.”

Satin’s protests died in his throat. He slipped the money into his jacket pocket without another word. “What’s the email address for then?” he asked quietly.

“That’s my publicist,” Loras told him stiffly. “If you fancy getting rich quick, I’ll always pay more.” He turned back to his knees and Satin wondered what he’d say to Renly when he got in tonight, if he’d keep quiet and wait until morning or if he’d break down and sob about what he’d done.

Either way, Satin felt sorry for him. Renly, he knew, was not going to be happy.


End file.
